


Summer Dyeing Day

by Dedicate Kiwicrocus (cranky__crocus)



Series: SMACKDOWN '11 Round Two - Team Discipline [28]
Category: Emelan - Tamora Pierce
Genre: F/F, Goldenlake, smackdown
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-02
Updated: 2011-06-02
Packaged: 2017-10-20 00:43:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/206996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cranky__crocus/pseuds/Dedicate%20Kiwicrocus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Many things of day and night, travel and home, stitch and weave could be beautiful—and were.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Summer Dyeing Day

**Author's Note:**

> Written for SMACKDOWN at Goldenlake: fiefgoldenlake.proboards.com

Many things of day and night, travel and home, stitch and weave could be beautiful—and were. Lark thought of stars, daybreak, sunset, the open road, a heated hearth, the strength of spun thread, the pattern of cloth, the sound of laughter and heated moments that left her skin flushed. All of them, most sensible people would concede, were beautiful.

            She gazed up from her dyeing work and saw the sun streaming off Rosethorn’s broad-brimmed hat, covering pale skin mottled with dirt where her soiled fingers had touched. Rosie removed the hat for a moment to dry her forehead with her shoulder. When it was replaced, she glanced over at Lark and grinned, pulling at the neckline of her habit to indicate a hot day.

            Perhaps some people wouldn’t possess the sense to find such a thing—the setting, the person, the gesture—beautiful, but Lark did. She smiled down at her bucket and set herself back into work.

 

 

Hot days were sticky and weeds were especially prickly with the heat of the sun on Rosethorn’s head. She felt droplets trickling and tickling down her temple. She removed her hat and rubbed at the area with her shoulder, replaced the hat and turned to look at Lark, who was staring at her.

            Rosethorn grinned. Not much could make a weeding day in the summertime close to pleasant, but Lark could—she had green dye all over her hands and a smudge on her cheek, right next to her smile. Silly woman had got it all over herself, but was smiling away.

She was beautiful, green-dyed or not. Beautiful people were well worth admiring—so long as it didn’t go to their heads or prevent productivity. The image of Lark, at peace in the shade, only made Rosie feel warmer, but it was a different warmth…one that would come to fruition in the evening.

            She pulled at her neckline, the universal gesture for _it’s too hot!_ At the moment, for her, it also meant _get this thing off me!_ but she didn’t specify that meaning.

            Instead Rosethorn turned back to her work, tugging weeds from the soil with augmented vigour.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. C:


End file.
